The biting wind swept across the snow-peaked Valley of Retribution, swirling icy crystals into the air. High upon a cliffside terrace, a ring of figures sat upon low stone seats.
At the circle's heart sat Immortal Xu Lianhua, her silk robes flowing like pale banners in the wind. Her eyes, soft yet carrying the weight of countless years, rested upon the dragon-robed immortal opposite her.
They exchanged fragments of lives long past. It was a ritual.
A faint smile touched her lips.
"My turn now."
The dragon-robed immortal inclined his head. "Go on, then."
Xu Lianhua's voice softened with nostalgia.
"In my amateur years as an alchemist, I fumbled blindly through the art of pill refinement. Everyone, save for my master, believed I was destined to fail. But why wouldn't he believe in me? I possessed the secret Crimson Silk Physique, after all."
A few present chuckled knowingly.
"But there is more to alchemy than physique, high-grade ingredients, and flawless cauldrons," she continued, her gaze sweeping the gathered faces.
"Yeah, we know," the jade-armored immortal muttered. "Finish up."
She ignored him. "My master once told me that I must return to the roots if I truly wished to surpass others. He had an epiphany while teaching me the Nine Steps of Basic Alchemy. He revised the method of Qi infusion entirely."
A faint ripple passed through the listeners.
Her voice steadied. "Instead of flooding the cauldron with a constant, overwhelming stream of Qi, he alternated precise pulses — brief surges followed by fractional pauses — synchronized to the natural resonance of the cauldron. It required less energy, yet allowed the medicinal essence to bind more deeply. Even a mortal without a dantian could temporarily harness ambient Qi to refine simple pills."
The immortals exchanged glances. It had indeed been revolutionary, but only the first time they'd heard it.
A long-robed elder sighed. "Again, Lianhua? Always the same story."
The jade-armored one snorted. "I can't tell if it's wisdom or madness that keeps you repeating it word for word."
From the edge of the circle, a starlit figure spoke. "Perhaps only stories like these keep us sane. Here, we have no purpose, no escape… I like this setting."
The jade-armored immortal squinted. "No way, you're serious?"
The starlit figure scoffed twice, then waved a hand. "No way. Shut the hell up, Lianhua, and finish fast — it's my turn next, you stubborn old bat."
"You shut up, you leaf-chewing geezer. Last time you told a story, half the circle fell asleep and the other half wished they had."
The long-robed man intervened before the scene could escalate.
"We have a newcomer among us, one who has not spoken. Perhaps he will find something in these tales," he said, casting a sidelong glance toward Arthur, who stood apart, eyes fixed upon the Path far below, where an endless procession of souls was moving.
Xu Lianhua's smile curved faintly. "The true art of pill-making lies in the basics. You all know… but he does not. Yet he will. After all, we have eternity here."
Her voice lowered, almost to a whisper meant only for herself.
"Too bad I have no ingredients to show you. I can only describe them… Perhaps one day — " She gave a soft, rueful laugh. "No… who am I kidding?"
The wind carried her words away.
Arthur blinked, and the memories of the Valley of Retribution faded.
He was once more in the Lotus Hall.
Elder Yan stood before the class, the Nine Steps of Basic Alchemy glowing faintly on the blackboard, each character drawn in the air by a flying quill. Now, the elder moved to the long alchemy table where four neatly arranged trays awaited.
"For the sake of your studies, the ingredients have been gathered and preserved for optimal potency," Elder Yan announced, his voice deep and steady. "You will not waste your time wandering mountains or fighting spirit beasts today. We will begin from the second step."
Arthur's gaze swept the trays. The first ingredient, Crimson Lotus Petals, was named and written neatly on his wooden table. Ot was soft with vivid red petals that shimmered faintly with heat.
Elder Yan explained, "This flower blooms once every fifty years in the heart of volcanic springs. It nourishes Qi circulation and stabilizes flame essence."
Then there was Ash Phoenix's Feather. Gray-White with a faint ember at its tip. "Do not be fooled by its name," Elder Yan warned. "It is not a true phoenix, but a bird that resembles one. Can you determine which realm the beast was in?
Nobody could answer.
Elder Yan spoke, "It was in the Ember Ignition Realm. Don't worry, you will learn with practice. Its ash-rich fibers stabilize volatile Qi during refinement and after pill consumption."
Then, the Dew of the Scarlet Grass was stored in a crystal vial. Clear droplets collected at dawn from scarlet-leafed grass growing in the marshes. "This is a volatile liquid. Mishandle it, and your batch will collapse instantly."
Finally, there was Molten Amber Resin — the binding agent, hardened sap from the Emberpine tree. "It fuses disparate essences into a cohesive pill core."
Elder Yan's gaze swept over them like a hawk.
"You will examine the materials and discard any blemished specimens. I have deliberately given a few of you bad ones. If you cannot identify them, that is your mistake. There are only four ingredients — this should be easy. Even a single corrupted grain will collapse the entire batch. Fail here, and you are not worthy of alchemy."
His lips curved in a faint, almost dangerous smile.
"I refined this pill in one incense stick's time. You will have four. Fret not if you fail — you have a moon to master this process. But you will have an incentive. The student who produces the finest pill today… will receive one hundred Ember Ignition Spirit Stones."
The hall stirred with excitement.
With a wave of his hand, an incense stick on his long table ignited, and its trail was now visible to all.
"Begin."
The class moved instantly.
Arthur, however, stood still for a moment. Knowledge of Empress Lianhua's methods swirled in his mind, but theory was one thing — application another.
He inhaled slowly, steadying his hands. Then he began.
He examined each herb and mineral, discarding those with visible flaws. In truth, he relied on luck; the delicate subtleties of identifying tainted Qi or hidden decay were things that came only with practice. He rinsed them in Spirit Water, the liquid sizzling faintly as impurities burned away.
He ground the Crimson Lotus Petals and Ash Phoenix Feather in a mortar until each became a uniform powder according to the procedure written by the quill, then set them aside. The resin remained whole for now, and the dew remained untouched in its crystal vial.
He began portioning and measuring the exact weights according to the pill's formula. Sequenced them. Arranging the ingredients in the order they would enter the cauldron.
Arthur worked more slowly than the others. When he glanced up, Elder Yan's eyes were already fixed on him, measuring and calculating. The elder's expression shifted into a complex, unreadable state.
Arthur refocused, hoping the ingredients he'd kept were the right ones.
Then came the fourth step, Qi infusion.
He remembered Empress Lianhua's words — The true art of pill-making lies in the basics.
Arthur picked up a small bronze rod and struck the side of the cauldron with a clear ding.
The sound rang through the Lotus Hall.
Heads turned.
"What is he doing?"
"Did he just… hit the cauldron?"
"Maybe he's checking if it's hollow."
"No, maybe he thinks it's a gong for good luck."
"Ha! Maybe he's trying to scare the ingredients into behaving."
Snickers spread, but Elder Yan's voice cut through like a blade.
"Enough. Back to work."
Silence returned, but Elder Yan's eyes never left Arthur.
Arthur struck the cauldron twice more, this time noting the pitch. He measured resonance, confirming it three times to reduce error by averaging the readings. Nobody dared pay attention now, fearing Elder Yan's rebuke — but Arthur's focus was absolute.
Only then did he begin Qi infusion.
Here, centuries — no, hundreds of thousands of years — of experience in Purgatory served him. Instead of Elder Yan's one-handed steady-flow method, Arthur's hands moved with practiced precision — short pulses of Qi flowed into the cauldron in perfectly timed vibrations, each resonating with the vessel's natural frequency.
At first, Elder Yan shook his head, convinced Arthur's rhythm was sloppy, amateurish. But then, suddenly.
He froze.
The infusion efficiency… was higher than the theoretical limit for anyone in the Ember Ignition Realm.
Confusion warred with disbelief. Shock warred with exhilaration. Elder Yan's breathing quickened as realization struck. He witnessed an amateur reweaving Tianyu's alchemy laws before his eyes.